


Casino Hitch

by Castaalia



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 05:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castaalia/pseuds/Castaalia
Summary: Two characters are completing a job. It's finished. One character is tending to the wounds of another. It's angsty. No smut.





	Casino Hitch

Most of them were men, causing her stand out. What made her stand out even more was because of how much money she had won. The gears in her head constantly turned as she observed details about her opponents which may serve useful in any other casino game she might play with them. It was dangerous to leave such details unnoticed- the way he blinked rapidly whenever he drew a bad hand, or way the dealer always stuck his finger out a little farther when dealing a high card. 

By counting the cards, she placed her bet. Of course, she won. Her mind was constantly working, playing it safe, or going big. Either way, she flummoxed the men, and soon they all left with their tails between their legs. 

A young man approached the woman, taking a spot next to her. “Why do you always have to do this?” he whispered. Instead of responding, she focused her attention to counting her money, and to observing her new opponents. The young man included. 

“Why are you playing at the same game as me?” she asked. He eyed all of the chips she had accumulated, his fingers falling on a stack, then lifted it up and let the chips fall back onto the table.

“I’m gonna give you a run for your money,” he whispered. A quick look of exasperation crossed her face, but just as quickly, indifference replaced it. She focused her attention back to the game, and to analyzing her new opponents. 

~~~

After the casino ordeal, she was going to sue the young man. The plan went accordingly, but not without a few causalities. And by a few, it was just her. Multiple holes poked into her arm. With a knife. _ So much for casino security _. 

She tensed her arm, cradling it as the young man drove her back to her hotel. Once in her room (the young man followed her much to her annoyance, but she knew she would need him), she went to the bathroom to tend to her wounds. She was glad that the young man was there. An extra set of hands would be needed. She hoped that maybe she could get more than just his hands. 

The young man barreled into the bathroom, the cool demeanor he exuded in the car gone, now replaced by distress. 

“There is nothing to fear,” she said quietly as she shrugged off her jacket. She winced at the movement, knowing that he would notice and rush to aide. He knew that she hated the help. He knew that she winced on purpose. He knew that she wanted to feel his hands on her skin. She knew he loved her. 

She sat on the sink’s table top, observing the way his fingers worked as he cut the cloth. As he cleaned her wound. As he bandaged it. How he brushed the bandage wrapped around her arm with his lips. As if his lips could heal the wound. 

_ That’s where you’re wrong. A kiss from him would make warmongers become pacifists _. 

He cradled her arm gently as he tended to her wounds. Despite all of the observing she has done of him in the past, she has never managed to figure out his tell before he went to heal someone. Once or twice she thought she saw the same action done, but the action was never repeated later on. He was clever, but she wasn’t stupid. 

She was smart. She was smart. She was logical. Calculative. Smart.

As if he was reading her mind, he murmured, “You played well today. Made good bets. I’ve never seen you that focused.”

“A lot was at stake,” she responded. He just shook his head and continued to tend to her wounds. “Why did you join my table today? I told you not to before we left for the casino. The whole job could have been jeopardized because of it.”

“But you’re not angry,” he pointed out, not daring to say more.

“I’ll get angry after you finish tending to my wounds,” she said with a strained laugh. 

He was done. Got the major wounds. Cleaned them. Did what he does so well. Care for people. 

_ That’s his tell _.

It made sense then. “I know your tell.” 

“No you don’t,” he responded as he began to clean up. She grabbed his forearm, forcing him to listen to her. He softened his gaze at her, slowly approaching her. 

“You always look at their throat or wrist before you tend to them. You always look at where you can topically feel their pulse.”

“They said you were good.” 

“Why did you come to my table?” she asked again. 

He sighed before answering. “You already know why.”

“Maybe I’m not that good.”

“Fine. It’s because you’re magnetic. I couldn’t stand to be away from you for that long. I was drawn to you at the casino,” he said as he wiggled out of her grasp, and continued to clean up. _ Funny how you talk about being drawn to me while you wiggle out of my grasp _. 

“In the spirit of drawing someone closer...” she trailed off, grabbing his hand and gently pulling him back to her. 

He held her gaze, then pressed a kiss to her fingertips. A familiar ache set in her stomach. A dull ache. An ache that reinforced the thought that she didn’t want to lose him. Then she made a spur of the moment decision. One driven by selfishness. One that she knew she wouldn't regret. “You’re not going on any more jobs,” she declared. 

He recoiled at that, dropping her hand. “Why not?” he asked angrily. She sighed. 

“Just as you’re drawn to me, I... am to you. I don’t want to lose you because of a stupid job.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, distancing himself from her. She took this opportunity to hop off the counter and to leave the bathroom. She knew he was following her, her discarded shirt and jacket in his hand. The hand that a cared for her wounds just now. She walked to her kitchen, distancing herself from him. She reasoned that the distance would make her think more clearly. Avoid any spur of the moment decisions. 

“Why am I wrong,” she responded, voice dangerously low. She could see that it clouded his eyes with both fear and arousal.

“You need me.”

“Exactly. You’re no use dead.” He tentatively took a step towards her, gauging her reaction. Instead she focused on making herself some tea. He stepped forward again. No reaction. She knew that he knew how to control a situation like this. He was well trained in how to change the power dynamic. Her mind thought of a way out. No, multiple ways out. 

“You are drawn to me, my love. So come a little closer,” he said, voice like honey, while standing in such a boyish way. Hands in pockets, he looked through the bits of hair that fell onto his face at her. It tempted her. It made the dull ache in her stomach grow. But she needed to be rational. Not fall into his clutches. Not be tempted by his soft kisses and delicate touch. The touch she ached to wake up to in the morning.

“Stop,” she responded. He sighed. The first though that crossed her mind was that she had just missed an opportunity. _ It’s for the better. Stay focused. _ She winced as she poured herself some tea. Her injured arm was an annoyance. It would set her in a bad mood. It made her angry, momentarily causing her to forget about the ache in her stomach. 

“A distraction would be good for you. For you to forget about your arm.” 

“Not everything can be solved by stripping down to our socks,” she smoothly responded. She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth. She didn’t mean to say it. He made no inclination of intimacy. He had her pinned. Cornered. She felt so dumb. So so dumb.

A slow and easy grin broke across his face. “No one said anything about that.” She was appalled that she let something like that slip. But she knew she had to own it. 

“Like it said, not everything can be solved by stripping down to our socks,” she repeated. 

“Maybe today it will,” he said, a grin plastered onto his face. Then much to both of their surprise, a slow and easy grin broke across her face too. She let loose a small laugh, shaking her head. 

“You got me,” she whispered, admitting defeat. 

“I know you.”

“No one knows me.”

“I know you,” he repeated, sureness and confidence apparent in his voice. She didn’t know how to respond. _ Because he’s right._ He approached her, placing a hand over hers. “Thorn’s boys have been taken care of. I suspect that we have a few hours to unwind,” he reported, a hint of an innuendo seeping in. 

“Unwinding is a myth created by salon workers,” she retorted. There was no more fear in his eyes. His eyes searched her face. She remained calm and collected. But she knew that he noticed her stillness. Her breath hitch at the contact. Hypersensitivity. Pupils dilated. 

She felt a pull. Once his lips were on hers, she realized that she was the pull. They broke apart.

“We’ll unwind our own way. A method that won’t involve a salon,” he said, tracing her jaw. She saw what the dull ache in her stomach was in his eyes. As the ache in her stomach diminished, the look in his eyes intensified. It was incomprehensible. She stopped looking at his eyes, instead focusing on the way his lips curved as he formed a sly grin. She didn’t know what trick he had up his sleeve. But she knew that it would be a good one.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never wrote anything like this. I hope you all enjoyed it!


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